Blurred Boundaries
by LilyMoon'sAlias
Summary: SchuldigxYohji, Two assassins on opposite sides just trying to get through each day. Yaoi. Don't own Weiss Kreuz, make nothing from the stories.
1. Check

Yohji spotted the familiar head of unlikely orange hair on the figure slumped at the bar and almost turned on his heel to leave. He had come to down or drown in a few drinks, however you wanted to look at it, and did not need another confrontation with Schwarz's telepath.

/You might as well stay. I already know you're here./

Yohji closed his eyes as the voice ghosted through his mind. He fucking hated it when Schuldig did that. It always gave him the worst feeling of violation when Schuldig inserted thoughts into his head.

/And you thought I just did it 'cause it's convenient./

"Shut up," Yohji murmured and took one of the empty bar stools next to Schuldig. He waved the bartender over and ordered his drink. Taking in the sagging posture of his companion he held up two fingers.

/Buying me a drink, lover? How sweet of you./

"Use your voice, Schuldig,"

"Don't get mouthy, Kudou." Schuldig's voice was oddly muffled.

The drinks arrived and Yohji saw the pale hand reaching out for the glass was slightly trembling. He caught the fingers in his left hand and turned Schuldig's face towards him with his right. Yohji whistled lowly and Schuldig jerked from his grasp to snatch the glass and glare at him while he sipped. The action pulled at his split lip and swollen cheek and he winced.

"Hell of a shiner you got there," Yohji said. "You kill'em?"

Schuldig flipped his hair forward and mumbled, "Can't."

Yohji frowned, sipped his own drink. "Crawford."

Schuldig stiffened. "None of your business, Kudou."

"You're right." Yohji lit a cigarette, took a deep drag. "Nor do I really care. Just making conversation."

They drank in silence for a while. After another round Yohji noticed Schuldig's posture relax somewhat. The fall of orange hair still concealed his face, but Yohji knew what was probably in his eyes. He saw it in his own eyes every time he looked in a mirror, a bone deep weariness of life. A derisive snort beside him jerked Yohji from his thoughts.

/I'm not one of your damsels in distress, Kudou. Get a grip. Your mind reads like a bad romance novel right now, and it's making me want to puke./

"You're such a prick, Schuldig."

"And once again, I'll remind you that I've never denied it."

Yohji twirled the ice in his glass while watching the telepath. He found it slightly disturbing to see defeat written over the man's face. It wasn't any more attractive a look than the damn smirk most often seen. Schuldig caught the thoughts and jerked his head up to sneer and narrow his eyes in a deadly glare worthy of Aya.

"So, you here drinking away your latest mission, White Knight?" Schuldig hissed.

Yohji's eyes took on a more bleak look and he raised his hand for another round. "You could say that," he said in a flat voice.

Schuldig blinked. It wasn't any fun if Yohji didn't fight back. Yohji seemed even more depressed than their last encounter. Even his attire was subdued. For Yohji, that is, meaning that not the usual amount of skin was showing. On pure impulse, Schuldig knocked back his latest drink and thunked the empty glass on the bar and turned to fully face Yohji, letting the assassin see the extent of the damage to his face.

Along with the black eye, the telepath had a split lip, a purple knot high on his cheekbone and his long nose was slightly off center with a bit of dried blood dotting his upper lip. Yohji instinctively dipped a bar napkin in the complimentary glass of water no one ever drank and dabbed at the blood. Frozen in shock, Schuldig just watched his face with wide, blue eyes and let it happen.

Yohji tossed the soiled napkin to the gouged surface of the bar and slid a fresh glass towards Schuldig.

"So," Yohji drawled. "Feel like getting shit-faced tonight, 'cause you're definitely not pretty enough right now to be seen with Kudou on the dance floor?"

Schuldig curled his lip in an almost sneer. "Screw you, Kudou. Even on my worst days I'm still prettier than you."

Yohji smiled into his next drink, sure the ball had bounced back into his corner for the while. 


	2. After Hours

"Out of m'way!"

Yohji pulled the struggling telepath back on his feet and sighed wearily.

"Schuldig, it's a wall, you idiot."

Schuldig narrowed bleary, blue eyes at Yohji then glared at the offending wall. Just for good measure he gave it a kick then cursed a blue streak over his throbbing toes. Yohji sighed again then decided he couldn't in good conscience leave the wasted bastard there on the street. It would be unfair to the unsuspecting, mostly innocent patrons leaving the bar. Schuldig was just as likely to scramble the brains of anyone fool enough to either try to help him or try to take advantage of his inebriated condition.

"Tired," Schuldig mumbled and tried to fold in a heap.

"Not here," Yohji grunted and slung a skinny arm over his shoulder.

Now what was he supposed to do? He couldn't exactly show up at the Schwarz residence, drop off his burden and expect to leave unscathed. Neither could he take Schuldig home with him. Oh, he could just imagine his teammates' reactions if he asked for help getting the telepath in bed, especially Aya's. Yohji was pretty sure if he tried that the last words he would ever hear would be along the lines of 'Shi-ne, Yohji!' A sharp tug on his hair caught his attention and made him hiss in pain.

"Yohji," Schuldig slurred and rolled his head back to somewhat focus on Yohji's face. "Of all the people I haven't killed yet, you're my favorite."

"I'm so pleased."

"S'Truth! I would have killed you sooner if not."

Yohji stifled a laugh and maneuvered the lanky body into the Seven. He slid into the driver's seat and smacked the hands that tried to mess with the settings on his radio. Schuldig sniffed haughtily and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Where we goin'?" he asked and slumped down in the seat, not really caring as long as it wasn't home. Fuck Crawford and his orders. He wasn't a dog to lick his master's boots after being kicked. Schuldig touched a finger to his black eye and glared into the darkness.

Yohji took his attention from the road for a second to give a wary glance at Schuldig. The crackling anger literally radiating from the telepath was making his head ache.

"Chill out. I'm not taking you home, and stop that before you make me wreck the car."

"Sorry," Schuldig snapped insincerely, but he did tamp down on his broadcasting anger.

Yohji stopped at the seedy hotel they had been to before and left Schuldig in the car while he got a room. When he got back Schuldig was insolently sitting on the hood of the Seven waiting for him.

"Get off!" Yohji ordered. No one treated his baby that way!

Schuldig hopped down and twined his body around Yohji's like a boa constrictor.

"If you insist," Schuldig purred and jerked Yohji's head down to mash their mouths together.

Yohji groaned with the reluctant lust he always felt for the telepath and fumbled the room door open. They fell into the room and it became a frenzied fight to remove clothes. Naked and buzzing with lust, they wrestled until Yohji rolled Schuldig under him.

"I'm on top this time, bastard," Yohji panted.

Schuldig bucked under him. "Whatever. Just make it good."

Using more care than Schuldig ever showed him, Yohji made sure the telepath was loose, relaxed and panting with want before responding to the goading taunts for a hard fucking. Afterwards, Yohji cleaned himself up and started to get dressed.

"The room's paid for until morning checkout."

A strong hand on his arm stopped him and he looked at Schuldig. Schuldig looked softer and strangely vulnerable with his hair loose and partially covering the black eye. His lips were swollen both from Yohji's kisses and his earlier fight with Crawford. Yohji arched an eyebrow in question.

"Stay." The request was almost too soft to hear.

Surprised, Yohji settled back into the bed and made himself comfortable as Schuldig wrapped long limbs around him tightly.

"You getting soft on me, Schuldig?"

"I can still smother you in your sleep, Kudou," Schuldig mumbled into his chest. "Now shut up and let me sleep."

Yohji chuckled and closed his eyes, reasonably sure that Schuldig wouldn't kill him that night, but...he slept with his watch on.

Just in case he was wrong. 


	3. Question

"Have you ever loved someone?"

The lithe body sprawled on its stomach beside Yohji jerked a little in surprise then a muffled snort of derision was heard from the long, elegant nose. Schuldig didn't bother to turn over. He scrunched his pillow tighter in his arms and kept his eyes closed against the faint glow of garish neon.

"What are you smoking, Kudou?"

Yohji frowned at the glowing tip of his burning cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke.

"Mild 100's, same thing I always smoke."

"Hmm. Thought you might have got into some kid's stash of pot," Schuldig mumbled sleepily.

Yohji poked the telepath lightly in the ribs. Schuldig growled and swatted at the offending hand.

"I think you are just avoiding my question," Yohji said and smiled wickedly.

Schuldig turned over so Yohji could get the benefit of the full force of his glare. Orange hair spilled over his shoulders and gleamed in the low light. His eyes seemed to glow with some inner fire. Yohji reached out a single finger to glide over the hard cheekbone and brush against the small bump left over from a past broken nose. At the simple touch the hard edge to Schuldig's glare softened, but when Yohji's finger traced over his bottom lip he caught it and nipped it hard. Something was up with Kudou but Schuldig was too damned tired to dig it from his head. He wanted to sleep, not lay in bed trading endearments like some woman after sex.

Yohji pulled his injured finger back with a hiss, turning it into the light to inspect it for blood. The sharp sting echoed the pain from the long scratches gouged in his back. Sex was always rough and tumble between the two of them, just barely ghosting over the line between kink and sado-masochism. Yohji shoved Schuldig on his back and lay down himself, putting his cigarette between his lips and curling his arm under his head.

"You still didn't answer the question."

They both stared at the cracked and stained ceiling of the hotel room. Schuldig was silent for so long that Yohji was sure that he had either fallen asleep or had just chosen to not answer. He was surprised when he turned his head and saw the telepath frowning with a far away look in his eyes. It suddenly struck Yohji that for all the time their paths had crossed and the more recent development of their unhealthy relationship, Yohji knew next to nothing about Schuldig. His face took on a soft, inquisitive look and his body curled intimately closer.

Schuldig must have either read him or guessed his intent, because before he could ask the next question on his mind, Yohji found himself rolled onto his face with his hips high in the air. After the minimum of preparation, Schuldig was thrusting into him with hard, deep, almost cruel and tooth rattling speed. All questions were driven from Yohji's brain and all he could do was hang on for the ride. His body burned with pain tinged pleasure. So close, he was so close.

Schuldig finished with a last hard thrust and a feral growl. He pushed Yohji flat and climbed off the bed, leaving Yohji still hard and unfulfilled. Schuldig wiped himself off and looked down at Yohji's red face and panting body with a cruel twist to his smirk. With his unnatural speed he was dressed and standing in the open doorway of the room.

"Love is for the weak, Kudou, and I'm anything but weak," Schuldig taunted and disappeared into the night.

Yohji limped to the bathroom and finished himself off with his own hand under the piss poor pressure of the shower. He came with the image of a head of orange hair in his mind, one tossed back with passionate abandon and throat bared in trust. He turned off the water and smoothed his wet hair back with a sigh, stepping from the mildewy tiles. Yohji padded from the shower to gather his scattered clothes. His pack of cigarettes lay on the bedside table alongside a bright yellow bandanna. One of the smokes was lit and stuck between his lips before he even finished drying.

Yohji pocketed the bandanna and smiled at the empty room, the air still pungent with the smell of sex, liquor and expensive cologne. His back stung and he would probably walk with a limp for a day or two, but Yohji smiled anyway.

He had the feeling that Schuldig was lying. 


End file.
